<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Find the River, Find Yourself by CaissyMax</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27840064">Find the River, Find Yourself</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaissyMax/pseuds/CaissyMax'>CaissyMax</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>History of the L'Manbergians [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Pre-Dream SMP</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:54:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,247</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27840064</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaissyMax/pseuds/CaissyMax</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Wilbur Soot has lost so much in his life already. Maybe it's time for him to find something to hold onto once again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Floris | Fundy &amp; Wilbur Soot, Jschlatt &amp; Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot &amp; Sally</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>History of the L'Manbergians [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1972756</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>82</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Find the River, Find Yourself</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Wilbur has just scooped the salmon up and is placing it carefully back in the rushing river when a shout startles him into dropping the fish fully into the water. “What the fuck are you doing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur rolls his eyes and pushes himself slowly, so slowly, back up off his knees and to his feet. He has to hold on to one of the trees beside him the whole time and even with all that, he still ends up grimacing, pressing a hand to his chest as he takes a few breaths in and out as deep as he can manage. “I found a salmon stranded on the shore.” he explains, giving Schlatt a look as he hobbles over to join him. Schlatt stands with his arms crossed and one eyebrow raised and doesn’t even offer to help. Wilbur wouldn’t accept it anyway. Wilbur waves towards the water behind him. “So I put it back in the water.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Schlatt sighs through his nose and scratches a hand through his hair. “‘Course you’d throw a perfectly good meal back into the river.” he huffs and Wilbur frowns and shoves at him, though he immediately regrets it with the way pain radiates through his shoulder and back. It makes it all the worse that Schlatt doesn’t even budge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you want to eat something, catch it yourself.” he mutters and pulls himself up onto a fallen log and has to throw his arms out to keep from immediately falling off and into the river himself. He hisses out a breath through his teeth and Schlatt laughs from behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur mostly forgets about the fish as they continue on, following the other bank of the river hopefully closer to their destination.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They make camp in a field not too far off from the river and neither him nor Schlatt speak as they go about setting up. Wilbur’s just got the fire started when Schlatt stands up, stretches, and crawls into his tent with only a nod of acknowledgement to Wilbur. Wilbur watches him go and just shakes his head. He’s not sure how much longer they can stick together. If it weren’t for the fact that Wilbur isn’t capable of fully taking care of himself as he is, he probably would have struck out on his own already.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur sighs and eyes the fire, shifting himself further away from it before just turning his back to it. Better for his night vision and meant that he didn’t have to stare into the flames and risk getting lost in them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stiffly shrugs out of his shirt, tossing it in the direction of his own tent and fishes some of his supplies out of the pouches at his belt and sets them on the ground beside him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then he sets about unwrapping the bandages that stretch from his shoulders nearly to his hips. He wraps the soiled bandages up neatly as he goes and tucks them into his pouches to wash and sanitize at a later date and then he just sits there. Curls his knees up to his chest and slouches over them. Rests his chin on his arms and shuts his eyes and just chills while he gives the wounds some time to air out. He’ll probably have to bribe Schlatt to help him clean them at some point tomorrow but that’s a problem for future Wilbur to deal with.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He has to reach a hand back behind himself more than once to reassure himself that the fire is still going, feel the heat of it on his skin, because, as far as he’s concerned, his back and even the backs of his arms aren’t up for parsing through different sensations. He sits there for a long time and, when his thoughts start trying to overwhelm him, he glances up at the night sky and starts counting stars. Very carefully doesn’t imagine who else might be looking up at them as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s only once the moon hits its peak in the sky that he finally straightens back up and begins applying salves and wrapping himself back up in fresh bandages. It’s hard not to make them too tight when he’s doing the work on his own, but it doesn’t matter that much anyway because he hasn’t been able to catch his breath properly since the fire anyway. And then he packs up whatever’s left and slinks into his own tent for another night of laying wide awake on his stomach and jerking away when the nightmares catch up with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead of bursting awake to the smell of smoke as usual, however, he wakes up when his foot sinks into wet dirt. He jerks back in surprise and stares down at the ground, brows furrowed. He glances around himself and realizes he’s at the river’s edge. His eyes are still heavy with sleep and he has to lean against a nearby tree in an attempt to get his head on straight. This is way too soon to be upright already.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rubs at his eyes. God, he’s never sleepwalked before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he’s still foggy with sleep but somehow upright, that’s the worst part.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes drift back shut and he can distantly feel his head lull…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>...and he flails when his foot is submerged in freezing water and falls back on his butt. Pain radiates up his spine and his vision whites out for a moment and he has to take long, deep breaths through his teeth until he can fight through it back to the present.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He struggles to sit up, glad he had decided to put his shirt back on before going to bed. He might have cried if he had had to redo his bandages all over again in the middle of the night-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s someone in the river.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinks and rubs his eyes and struggles up onto his knees, shuffling closer to where the water laps at the damp ground, not even caring about the mud he’s getting on his pants. The figure doesn’t vanish like a dream, instead, it gets closer as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Until it resolves into a creature, human in shape, but distinctly not in every other detail that matters. With long hair that reminded Wilbur of seagrass and body covered in shimmering red scales, eyes wide and unblinking and a little too large.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s frightening.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But...she’s also beautiful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur could try and write a song about her a hundred times and never be able to capture the exact feeling that stirs in his chest when she sits waist deep in the water in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello?” he calls softly, head tilting and fingers digging hard into the fabric of his pants.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She mimics him, head tilting a touch too far. “Hello.” she repeats.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur’s at a loss for words. If he hadn’t grown up with Phil and his many wild and enchanting stories of his travels, Wilbur might not even believe what he was seeing with his own eyes. “Who...who are you?” he murmurs, hand twitching as if to reach for her before shaking his head and remembering himself. Strange creature or not, that didn’t excuse bad manners.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She reaches for him instead, grabbing one of his hands in her own, revealing sharp claws and webbing between her fingers. Though she was delicate enough not to slice him open with her claws. Everything about her makes him think about the stories Phil used to tell them when they were children, about witches and spirits and communing with nature itself during his travels. How he’d used to joke about thinking Techno’s mum was some sort of icy spirit come for his soul the first time he’d laid eyes on her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then he shakes his head because he doesn’t want to think about Techno at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can call me...Sally.” she finally answers, eyes blinking up at him once with a nictitating membrane and again with her true eyelids. It’s an interesting sight to see on a very nearly human face. She lays on her belly and props herself up on her hands to get closer to him on the river bank. “I-” she starts and then clears her throat like she’s still adjusting to speaking. “I wanted to thank you.” she says softly, searching his expression as she does.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank...me?” he murmurs, brain still a little too slow to keep up. “I’m not sure what you mean.” He’s certain he would recognize her if he had seen her at some point before, clearly, and he’s not sure he’s done anything at all recently that would warrant thanks from anyone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, he had thought he had earned thanks for something but that had apparently fallen through.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh dear.” she says, placing her hands on both of his cheeks, her thumbs brushing the sudden moisture from beneath his eyes. Though because she herself is vaguely damp, it doesn’t do much. It makes him laugh a little. “You’ve lost as much as you’ve gained, haven’t you?” He tries to shake his head because surely not. He got what he wanted. He’s free now. He doesn’t have a life long sentence hanging over his head. This is-this is exactly what he wanted. But her hands on his face keep him from moving too far.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She tsks and looks sad. She brushes a curl behind his ear. “And still you’ve got good in you.” she murmurs, tilting her head to examine his face. And she smiles and her teeth are sharp and so obviously not human and it would be unnerving if not for how soft her eyes are. “You helped me return to the river,” she says and shifts so she’s holding both of his hands between her own, “let me do something for you in return.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes a few deep breaths and winces at the pain in his chest, he blinks rapidly and tries to drive back the tears welling in his eyes again. He feels like he can’t get enough air into his lungs, he hasn’t been able to breath properly since the fire, between the bandages and the smoke, and he feels like he’s been on the verge of a panic attack for at least a week. And for this gentle but strange being to be offering him such kindness is nearly enough to finally push him over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t do it for-for something.” he croaks and the corners of her eyes crinkle as her smile grows even wider.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.” she says. “But if I have the ability to ease some of your suffering after you’ve done me a service, then how could I not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur knows that most wouldn’t. Most would move on and take the kindness for granted. She must be one of the great ones to return and reveal herself to him at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sniffs and presses his forehead to their combined hands and lets out a shuddering breath. There are so many things he could ask for in this situation. He could ask for his lungs back. Could ask for her to heal the burns stretched across his back, their pain an ever-present reminder. Ask her, beg her, to tell her what he should do next. Maybe she could tell him if he made the right choice. Ease the guilt tearing him up on the inside as he thinks about all of the people whose lives he had affected because he was selfish. Was it selfish? Or was he just the only one brave enough to stand against a corrupt entity? Was it still selfish if he hadn’t thought of anyone but himself and his people in the moment? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls himself forcefully out of those thoughts, because, really, he already knows that there’s only one thing he really wants out of all of this. “I just...I want my family back.” he whispers. Admitting it is like a punch to the gut. He’d love to just be happy with how everything had turned out. And he’s still furious at Technoblade for leaving him behind and upset that Phil would choose to stick with Techno instead of him but...they’re all he has. They’re what he did this all for and here he is, all alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, Schlatt is there as well. But...he’d be surprised if him and Schlatt didn’t end up trying to kill each other within the week.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hears Sally sigh and already knows that he’s not going to get what he wants.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gently cups his chin and lifts his head back up. Makes him meet her eyes. “I-” she starts and shakes her head like she’s disappointed in herself. “I can’t snatch people out of their place in time and space but…” she hesitates. “I can create something new for you. A new bond to forge. Something untainted by the past behind you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur’s eyes are wide as he searches her face for an idea of what she means. He doesn’t try for long however. He’d take anything that might fill the aching hole in his chest where his family has been scraped out of him. “Please,” he murmurs, his hands holding onto hers desperately now, “please, I’ll take whatever you can give me.” He sounds pathetic. He’s never been more glad that Schlatt sleeps like the dead. He’d never live this down otherwise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sally nods and reaches for his hair again and he expects the same as before, her pushing some of his hair back behind his ear, but instead she plucks a strand from his head. He winces at the sting, but it’s still nothing compared to his back. Then she twists one of his hands in her and uses the tip of one clawed finger to prick his finger and draw a bit of blood. She turns his hand over and lets a few drops of red fall into the water she rests in and then drops the strand of his hair in with it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stares at the water for a long moment, a wrinkle appearing between her brows, before she finally nods. She looks back up at him and she’s smiling again. Not quite as wide this time, but satisfied nonetheless. She pats his hand. “Return here tomorrow morning,” she says and begins paddling backwards away from the shore, “and you’ll find my gift for you waiting on the shore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He reaches out for her before he realizes what he’s doing and dropping his arm back to his side. He rubs at his eyes now and calls after her as she drifts down river, “Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good luck, Wilbur Soot.” she says and though her voice is soft, he hears it as if she was still right there in front of him. “Maybe we’ll meet again someday. And I can see what you’ve done with my gift.” And she disappears beneath the water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur sits there, listening to the burbling river for a while longer, enjoying the peace of the night. He stares into the water as if he can figure out what will be waiting for him in the morning. But all he sees is the silt of the river’s bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, he pushes himself up and heads back to their camp.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The next morning he’s awake the second the sun shines in his eyes. And, though his whole body is stiff with aches and his foggy brain isn’t entirely sure that he hadn’t just had a wild dream, he shoves out of his bedroll, ignoring Schlatt’s grumbling, and limps his way back to the river.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t even know what he’s expecting to find but he can’t deny the hope stirring in his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rubs at his eyes and sighs but perks up when he spots his trail through the wet river bed. He follows it diligently but stops when he hears...splashing?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His steps become more hesitant but he boldly continues onwards because this was a gift for him. This was someone doing something nice for him and he isn’t about to squander what Sally didn’t have to do for him. He brushes branches out of his path-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-and stops dead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinks and the wide amber eyes that meet his own blink back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The child is sat halfway in the river, their nightgown and face splattered with mud and two more fistfuls of the stuff ready to go. Wilbur snorts an incredulous laugh at the sight and the kid’s whole face positively lights up. They giggle and splash some more in the water and Wilbur approaches them with his own smile, crouching down in front of them and brushing stray auburn curls out of their eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This isn’t quite what Wilbur had expected but as the child grabs onto his hand and doesn’t let go, Wilbur can feel...so much welling up in him that he nearly starts crying again. Which is dumb because he hasn’t stopped smiling either. “Hello.” he says softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The child’s eyes squint as their smile only grows and there’s something in the shape of their eyes, in the scrunch of their nose that reminds himself of the face he sees in the mirror. Reminds him of Phil too. “Hello!” they parrot happily and Wilbur melts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t even care about the fact that his shoes are certainly soaked through by now, or that the child is still slinging mud without a care to who gets caught in the crossfire. “Do you have a name?” he asks, curious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The kid nods rapidly. “Mama said I’m Fundy.” They use Wilbur’s arm to pull themself up onto their feet, wobbly like they aren’t used to it, but they don’t fall back down. “You’re my dad?” they ask, wide eyes searching his expression and Wilbur carefully keeps his face pleasant instead of falling into his usual neutral expression. He remembers how perceptive kids can be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I sure am.” he says without a lick of hesitation and scoops the kid up and out of the mud. Fundy settles onto his hip without a fuss, eyes darting about their surroundings as if the slight bit of height they gained will make everything different. He takes a few steps back before glancing towards the river once more and chewing on his lip. “Do you want to say goodbye to your mother?” he murmurs to the child, face pressed into their soft curls. “You might not see her again for a little while.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fundy pouts and looks like they might kick up a fuss over that and Wilbur’s ready to attempt damage control but eventually Fundy just waves a small hand and calls, “Bye-bye, Mama!” Wilbur doesn’t hear anything in response, but Fundy grins like they’ve won a prize, so Wilbur assumes he’s done something right here.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, there’s no accounting for Schlatt. Especially so early in the morning. So Wilbur should’ve been ready for the too loud, “Oh, are we stealing children now?” The words slurred just enough that Wilbur knows he’s somehow gotten ahold of another bottle of liquor despite Wilbur having cleared his stash out barely three days ago.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” Wilbur says firmly, setting Fundy gingerly down in the middle of their camp. He softens a bit when the kid toddles over to Schlatt and latches onto one of his sleeves, wide eyes curious as they examine the man. Schlatt’s eyes narrow and Wilbur’s ready to jump in, but Schlatt allows the attention with a small ‘hmph’. “They’re my child.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading!</p>
<p>Felt like throwing my hat into the who is Sally and how did Wilbur acquire Fundy ring. I don't know if it comes across but I was basically going for the fairytale esque 'this person is given a random test without knowing to see whether they are a good person or not' with Wilbur returning Sally as a salmon to the river even though most probably wouldn't have bothered.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>